Zarasha

Copyright © 2020 Aisha Tehseen.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-9876-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-9877-2 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 04/08/2020

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all the people that I

am indebted to in one way or another.

To my dear mother, for giving me life without

which nothing would be possible.

To my supportive husband, for being there for me

through the highs and lows, the good and bad.

To my two best friends, for always encouraging me to

pursue my dreams and for being a shoulder to lean on.

To my siblings, for pushing me to do better and forever supporting me.

To my two beautiful children who give me a reason to live.

And lastly to my late father, who is the inspiration

behind the story and my life.

CHAPTER

1

Zarasha! Armeen!, Khalil called out to his daughters. Time to go home. Let’s go back now before it’s too dark! Khalil looked around the valley hoping to catch a glimpse of his daughters playing. Maybe they were playing beneath a tree or on top of a rock, he thought. He looked all around but they were nowhere to be found. He took a few steps further down the hill to finally see both his daughters hiding under a big bush near the river. They had made a pretend hut using a shabby piece of cloth as a shelter. The inside of the hut housed a makeshift kitchen with an area to cook and a small table to eat meals.

What’s going on here?, he remarked as he moved closer. I see my beautiful daughters are playing their favorite pretend game. House, House!

Zarasha looked up from her cooking position. She loved being the mother. Cooking meals and serving food was her favorite pretend chore. Baba, we’ll be home soon. Can we play for five more minutes please? Zarasha was the quiet one. She loved playing pretend solitary games, occasionally letting her sister join in on her imaginary adventures. Often, Zarasha would branch off to do her own thing while Armeen would still be assuming she was a part of her sister’s fantasy play. Zarasha would launch into dramatic monologues pretending she was a beautiful princess with special powers fighting against the world, so absorbed in her play that she would often forget to engage with people around her.

Khalil worried about her often. He secretly hoped that she would grow up to be one of those roaring, fierce character’s that he had read about in books. The world was a cruel place for the quiet, shy ones. They were seen as weak and therefore easy to diminish. One needed to fight to survive, to always be on guard and ready to defend when necessary, he thought. With time, Zarasha chose to be more withdrawn and enjoyed absorbing herself in imaginary play whenever she could.

At this moment looking at his daughters, Khalil felt relieved knowing that they were safe; cocooned in their own private space. His daughters were never the ones to wander off into the dangerous parts of the village, although Armeen was at times determined to dip her feet into trouble. Khalil watched her carry a pail of water from the river for their pretend evening bath. Clearly, she was the father in their game. Collecting food or sticks for the fire and fetching water were her duties which she carried out with a bounce in her step. Armeen was the outgoing one of the two, she loved running wildly in the outdoors pretending to chase away trouble. If it were up to her, Armeen would go to school to only play sports.

Regardless of who they were and what they would grow up to be, Khalil was standing tall with pride looking at them discovering themselves in their world of play. The Wakhan household stood tall on the pillars of their modest abode. They had very little yet felt like they had it all. The girls brought mercy with their existence, their laughter eased their struggles and their smiles brightened the dimly lit rooms.

Khalil was a bold voice in the community yet in his home with his daughters, he was the most gentle of giants. His wife Nila, often reminded him that daughters in this part of the world were meant to leave their parent’s homes and be a part of their spouse’s home for the rest of their lives. How will they survive with an uncompromising husband or an authoritarian mother-in-law? she would often say. Khalil would reply "My daughters aren’t ordinary girls; they have inherited tenacity from their mother and resilience from their father and that makes them special. They will find partners who will respect and appreciate them.

Thinking of Nila, Khalil zapped back to the present, It’s time to leave girls, your mother is waiting for both of you. Dinner is ready and probably cold by now. Zarasha spoke before Armeen could protest further. Let’s go Armeen or Mama will be upset. We made her wait yesterday as well. Armeen dropped her household items, stacked them in a corner beside the bush and glanced at her pretend home one last time. See you again tomorrow, she said knowingly. Zarasha gathered her toy pots and pans and neatly put them away before joining her family at home.

Walking hand in hand towards their home, Khalil couldn’t help admire the breathtaking sunset over the hills of Ostanghan. The lush landscapes added to the scene of serenity. The Wakhan family had been living in the region for generations. His familial ancestry traced back to Azur Jamshed (Prince of Persia from the fourteenth century). Some historical texts claimed he was fictional, yet the locals believed he was the proclaimed ruler who overthrew Sri Badat (Buddhist King of the Trakhan dynasty).

Ostanghan was a fragment of heaven on earth. It was surrounded by mountains and dipped by valleys that met with pristine lakes enveloping a lush landscape. If you looked from the highest hill, one could see the Himalayas stretching to the East. The region was home to around fifty peaks with long glaciers stretching on the outskirts of land. The largest city in the area was Skardu which was known for being ‘the tourist city’. Ostanghan wasn’t as extensive as Skardu but like the region, its main means of livelihood was agriculture and trading between neighboring countries. Historically, the Silk Road was the main route for trade but with recent investments between Pakistan and China, the Karakoram Highway offered increased means of trading between the two countries. During the summer months, mountaineering and trekking were enjoyed by tourists from all over the world. K-2 (the second highest peak in the world) and Nanga Parbat were some of the popular peaks in the region.

Khalil owned a medium-sized truck and transported goods such as clothing, crop and logistical hardware from his village to the border of China. His business had brought steady money over the years and with investments from neighboring countries, trade had been flourishing. He hoped to own a trucking company one day which for which he had been putting money aside for years. Maybe one day I could own more than one truck, employ a couple of drivers and grow the business, thought Khalil. But there was a dream he had that was much larger than owning a trucking company, and that was to provide his daughters with higher education. Nothing would make him happier than to see his daughters excelling in academia and pursuing meaningful careers.

Zarasha had an aptitude for science and Armeen was good with numbers. How wonderful would it be watching his daughters work in big, corporate offices with important people waltzing around them? Imagine the things they’d learn; the friends they’d make. Dinner table conversations would be about discussing innovative technology saving human lives or energy-efficient methods to construct better houses and hospitals. Khalil often thought of his shortcomings and how little he knew about the world. His father couldn’t afford to send any of his children to school past the eighth grade. All through his teenage years, he longed to pursue higher education. He dreamed of attending a reputable college where he could learn about the world and interact with peers equally passionate about science, history or literature.

Looking at his daughters, Khalil vowed to accomplish this dream for them, even if it meant sacrificing his own aspirations. He wanted his daughters’ lives to mean something and be of value. He wanted people to look up to them because of their academic and professional accomplishments.

As they reached home, Nila stood in the doorway, Khalil you always let the girls get their way. When will you stop caving into their demands? The food is cold now. Zarasha spoke for her father defensively, Baba wanted us to leave right away. We made him stay a bit longer. Besides Mama, we love your Kalli (noodle soup) and Mantu (dumplings) cold. Nila looked at her daughter lovingly, always aware that Zarasha was her Baba’s number one fan and could not bear to hear a word against him. I didn’t make soup or dumplings. Today I made beef pilaf (rice cooked in beef broth) and Ghalmandi (layered flatbreads with cheese). Your Baba’s favorites."

Armeen’s mouth opened wide Oh really? So delicious mama. Baba should have told us; we would have come running home. Khalil looked at his wife, Actually, Baba did not know himself that we were laying out a feast today his eyes sparkling with mischief.

To what do we owe this pleasure, my dear wife?

Because we had a modest Eid this year. You all remember we didn’t buy any presents or new clothes. So, I had promised myself I will treat you all once I get my yearly committee return.

Nila participated in a local committee, where women put away a part of their savings each month and traded off the accumulated amount amongst themselves once a year. This year Nila planned to buy a new sewing machine and make one big surprise feast for her family. A new sewing machine would help her stitch twice as fast and with school uniform orders coming in, Nila’s business was doing quite well. Moreover, she got a special deal on the meat today. Baba Faghash (the local meat store owner) was feeling quite generous. He added an extra chop of lamb for half the price and Nila jumped at the offer. In her mind, if it made sense, it had to happen.

That was one of the things Khalil loved most about his wife: her sensibility and righteousness. Everything had to be fair in the Wakhan household and in their community. There had been many times where Nila had stood up for injustice; whether it be reprimanding a local vendor for shortchanging customers or correcting teachers who wouldn’t live up to basic educational standards of society. Nila was a female version of her father and Farid Armaghoush (her father) was a staunch believer in practicing dealings with fairness and honesty. He was the only father in the village who did not put up a fight when a younger Nila stood up to him and presented three sound reasons for why she wanted to marry Khalil. Any other Afghan father would have smacked the deviance out of their child that dared to falter, but not Farid. He carefully heard his daughter’s points, asked a few questions regarding her future and gave her his blessings. His only request was for Nila to visit once a year with her family, as time spent with her was the only gift that he truly treasured.

Khalil was inundated with joy when he heard that Nila’s father had agreed to their marriage. He would have never imagined marrying a girl he coincidentally met on one of his trucking expeditions to Afghanistan. Khalil was a simple man who owned one truck and came from a home where his parents could only afford one meal a day for their children. He didn’t know what it was that Nila saw in him. Their brief encounters were merely an exchange of few words, a couple of stolen glances under the constant weight of someone watching. But there was an undeniable pull that both of them felt. The quickening of pulses and heartbeats skipping as romanticized in books and movies, left them to believe that what was between them was more than just infatuation. Many times, Khalil cajoled Nila into spilling the beans, asking her what were the things that made her choose him. She had always brushed it off If you knew, it would get to your head and I wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. Is that what you want?, she had said teasingly. No of course not. How would I live without my beautiful wife? You don’t need to tell me. Just write it on a piece of paper, Khalil would tease back.

Of all the blessings God had given him, Nila was the one he was the most grateful for. Some might say children are God’s biggest blessings but without Nila, there would be no children. Her incredible strength, integrity and values were the foundation of their home. He provided the structure, but she was the undeniable force and stability that brought their family together.

CHAPTER

2

Khalil had vowed to never let Nila down. She had entrusted her life with him by leaving behind everything familiar, to be with a man she barely knew. Nila knew she would not have the luxury of visiting her family regularly who she loved dearly. Traveling back and forth was not something Khalil could afford. But he had promised to schedule one business trip a year near the city where Nila lived so he could take her to visit her family. Over twelve years of their marriage, Khalid had taken her to see her family eleven times. Farid Armaghoush gleamed with approval